


Perhaps I See Myself In You

by solversonlou



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Backstory, Frottage, Graham's backstory is vague, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 21:26:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13490103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solversonlou/pseuds/solversonlou
Summary: "I wouldn't have guessed someone who sounds like you would be a cleaner," Joe says almost immediately, the words sending a twinge of shame through Graham, who tenses. Joe looks away quickly then looks back up again, apologetic. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out like that."The introduction and journey of Graham Foster into Joseph Tate's life, leading up to where they are now.





	Perhaps I See Myself In You

Joe is eighteen when he makes his first business investment. It's a small accounting firm based in London, something that will bring in extra money and look good on his portfolio whilst he earns his degree. 

He hadn't planned on actually visiting the place, but his aunt had insisted that he needed to be the face of the company, so he turns up on the day he takes over, introducing himself to the workers and manager as their new CEO.

It goes smoothly enough, his charm working on them surprisingly well, despite him expecting they would overlook him on account of his young age. 

He had prepared to leave before lunch time, but the workers bombard him with polite interest and he figures he should placate them.

By the time five o'clock rolls around, most of them are gone and he's left with a headache and a frown, sitting in the lobby, clutching a plastic cup of water that tastes foul.

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you," a voice interrupts him from his thoughts, male and more mature than his own, but with a similar accent that signalled privilege. 

Looking up, Joe expects to see a man in a suit, but he's met with a pair of navy overalls instead, the name tag attached to the front of them reading _'Graham'_.

"And why would that be?" Joe questions, still frowning.

"Well, it hasn't been changed in weeks, for one," Graham informs him, the dark circles round his eyes and the unkempt stubble on his chin betraying his demeanour.

Joe is perplexed by the man entirely. He opens his mouth to speak, but the throbbing in his head pounds through his jaw and he lets out a soft groan, rubbing his jaw with his fingers.

"Headache?" Graham reaches into the pocket of his overalls, pulls out a small box, offers it to the younger man. "Ibuprofen. When you get to my age, being on your feet all day can be a problem."

Joe looks tentatively between the hand extended to him and the man's face before taking the pills from his hand, "Thanks."

Graham watches as Joe swallows the pills and grimaces at the taste of the water as he washes them down. Joe hands the box back to him, and Graham puts them back in his pocket, "I take it that you're Joseph Tate, the new owner? I wouldn't have guessed you to be so young."

"I wouldn't have guessed someone who sounds like you would be a cleaner," Joe says almost immediately, the words sending a twinge of shame through Graham, who tenses. Joe looks away quickly then looks back up again, apologetic. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out like that."

Graham's lips curl into a half smile a small breath of air leaving his nose, "I can't say that's the first time someone has said that to me. I usually go unnoticed until I open my mouth."

Joe nods. There's something about the man that piques his interest. The mystery as to why someone who seems so upperclass is mopping floors at an accounting firm is beyond him.

"I suppose I should get back to work," Graham says, pulling his cart of cleaning supplies towards himself. 

Joe stands up suddenly, stopping Graham in his tracks. 

Graham blinks up at the younger man who has a good few inches on him, and the first thing Graham notices is his eyes, eager and youthful with the glint of aspiration. Graham swallows.

"Graham, I take it?" Joe extends his hand and Graham looks at it for a second before taking it in his own and shaking firmly.

"Foster," Graham confirms, pulling away from the handshake and looking back up at Joe.

"Would you like a job interview?" Joe asks outright, cutting straight to it, and Graham almost doesn't process it at first. Joe expands on his meaning, clarifies. "As an assistant, of sorts."

"An assistant for what, exactly?" Graham asks.

Joe's lips stretch into a smile, "Me."

\- - -

They exchange texts over the next few weeks as Joe attends university.

His coursework is beginning to get on top of him somewhat, and running a business was not entirely easy work.

He tells Graham that the interview is on that coming Friday, that he should wear a suit.

\- - -

Graham is late to the interview, and Joe is somewhat irritated, but the sight of the older man, clean shaven and in a suit is reassuring.

Joe is impressed by the answers given to his questions, but he can't help but feel somewhat suspicious when Graham is vague about his own personal commitments.

"If you have a wife, that's fine, of course," Joe says, and Graham's demeanour shifts from confidence to reluctance. "But I'd prefer you not to. I'd need you for most hours of the day."

Graham clears his throat, straightens his shoulders, "That won't be a problem. I'm unmarried. No children."

Joe nods slowly, "How soon can you do a trial run?"

\- - -

Graham proves himself helpful over the next week and a half. He drives Joe to and from Oxford, helps with dealing with the finances of the accounting firm, even goes on runs for coffee and purchases the books Joe needs for his coursework and brings them to him.

Graham is asking him about his reasons of getting on the business ladder one day, and Joe tells him about his upbringing, how his dad was a businessman, wealthy and proud. How he wants to honour him.

A twinge of something melancholy hits Graham at the young man's words, his hands flexing over the steering wheel as they sit in the car park of _Harrods_. Graham tells him that's an honourable thing, recalling the fact that his own father had died when he was young too.

Joe is somewhat touched by the conversation, recalling it for the better half of a week.

\- - - 

After a month, Joe is impressed by Graham's work, but he can't help but feel something is off. Like despite Graham's helpfulness, he seems to be distracted by something. Joe figures that he might just be adjusting to the sudden change in career.

It isn't until after Joe gives Graham the full time job, offers him a meal at a fancy restaurant in town, does Graham go awry.

Joe has been waiting for hours for the man to pick him up, and he's frankly growing angry by the lack of communication from Graham's end.

He must phone him about twelve times before someone picks up, but it isn't the voice of Graham, it's the voice of a woman with a thick cockney accent that Joe can barely comprehend.

"I'm sorry, but who on earth is this?" Joe demands, and the woman on the phone lets out a loud sigh, the sound of music behind her growing distant as she seemingly moves to another room.

\- - -

Graham's late afternoon slumber is interrupted by a loud knock on the door to his flat, awaking him suddenly. Stumbling to his feet, his head swims as he tries to gather himself, but the blurry vision makes it difficult. He does what he's done a hundred times before and uses the furniture as a guide, swaying as he reaches the door.

Joe's anger is apparent as soon as Graham opens the door, and the younger man makes sure to take a step inside so Graham doesn't slam the door in his face, "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting?! I call you up, and what do I get? Some barwoman telling me how you left your mobile in her pub!"

Graham doesn't say a word as Joe goes quiet suddenly, his eyes drawn to their surroundings, the mess on the floor and what looks to be a flat that hasn't been tidied properly in months.

Joe frowns, looks at Graham, sees the way he's looking away from him, head dropped in shame. Joe can tell this isn't your average binge, gets the feeling this has happened before and often, "You're drunk."

Graham turns away from him, sways on his feet as he makes his way back into his flat, half expecting Joe to walk out in disgust.

"This place is a mess," Joe says as he follows Graham into the living room, watches his feet as he steps over a pile of half-folded clothes on the floor. There's two empty bottles of wine on his coffee table, and Joe's eyes soften a little, sad at the sight of it.

"If you've come here to fire me, just do it," Graham grumbles, grabbing the remaining wine left in his glass and swigging it down. He might as well. He's not got much to lose now. "I don't need your judgement."

"Who said anything about judgement?" Joe frowns, standing with his hands in his pockets as Graham sits on his sofa, hand pressed to his bleary face, eyes shut. Joe swallows, shifts on his feet, studies the older man for a moment. He looks so tired. Lost. "How long have you lived like this?"

"What's it to you?" Graham meets his eye, lips pressed into a frown.

"You're under my employment," Joe says. "I'd like to know if you were drinking on the job. Drink driving is a serious offence."

"I..." Graham looks away, pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "I didn't drink on the job. I only drink when I'm..."

"In trouble?" Joe tilts his head towards the coffee table, a pile of unopened post marked _'urgent' _sitting atop some magazines. Graham doesn't respond, and Joe takes the silence to state his case. "Look, you've proven to me that you are a competent worker, despite today's... slip up."__

__Joe walks around the mess on the floor, pushes the documents aside and takes a seat on the coffee table. Linking his hands together, elbows propped on his knees, he leans forward, meets Graham's line of sight._ _

__Graham may be drunk but he can recognise that Joe isn't looking at him with pity. Rather, he looks like a young man who sees potential and that he's concerned at what may happen to that potential._ _

__Swallowing, Graham leans back on the sofa, angles himself away from the younger man, not wanting him to smell the alcohol that no doubt stains the air._ _

__"If you're willing, I can get you help. Counselling. A new flat," Joe says, nodding towards the post besides him. "Maybe help pay off some of these debts."_ _

__Graham scoffs a little, glances at him with a half lidded, bleary gaze, "We both know you could afford someone more competent. So why on earth are you so keen to keep me?"_ _

__Joe's chin lifts, jaw clenching and relaxing as he contemplates his words, eyes fixed on the older man's form, his sunken shoulders and solemn face, "Perhaps I see myself in you, as odd as that may seem."_ _

__Graham's lips part, but he's unable to fathom a response to that in particular. His jaw tightens as he nods, firm, shoulders straightening a little. Exhaling through his nose, he gives his answer to Joe's offer, "Alright, but I can't make any promises."_ _

__\- - -_ _

__The Alcoholics Anonymous meetings aren't exactly to Graham's tastes. They're _'not like the ones for the common and lazy'_ according to Joe, but rather businessman and low level politicians, doctors and semi-famous artists. Wealthy alcoholics, to put it plainly._ _

__Graham feels out of place there, and he tells Joe this after a few months of meetings, the two of them sat in the high rise London flat that Joe had purchased for him. (Graham wasn't even a full time employee yet. Working to get himself sober was the priority.)_ _

__"You never told me how you came to be a cleaner," Joe says, sipping on a latte as he sits at the large, white, marble top table. It's not exactly to Graham's tastes, but he deals with it. "I could tell you came from privilege. You don't get an accent like that being raised by council estate parents. Your knowledge of the business side of things was transparent, as well."_ _

__Graham looks into his empty latte cup, caffeine a replacement for the alcohol he so desperately craves. Fingers warmed by the porcelain, he inhales sharply, conflicted as to whether he should open up to this man he barely knows but has provided him with so much._ _

__"My father was driven to suicide by my step-mother," Joe's voice cuts through the momentary silence, and Graham's eyes shoot up to him quickly, widening at his words. Joe smiles a little, but it's moreso melancholy as his gaze drifts off, voice soft as he speaks. "He had everything... a business, a family, money. Her greed drove him to misery. She poisoned him, and he took his own life."_ _

__Joe meets Graham's gaze, his blue eyes brimming with tears, and Graham's chest twinges at the sight of it._ _

__Graham swallows, watches as Joe wipes at his wet cheek with his thumb and chuckles to himself, trying to mask his grief._ _

__Exhaling, Graham presses his hands flat on the table, avoids Joe's eye as he speaks, "I inherited my family's business..."_ _

__\- - -_ _

__Things are going well mostly, but Joe becomes ill the Winter before his final exam._ _

__Graham comes to his flat, despite not being in full term employment by him yet, supplies in tow._ _

__"You didn't have to come here," Joe tells him, an expensive, plush throw wrapped around him as he lays out on his sofa, his revision books open on the glass coffee table before him._ _

__"Yes, I did," Graham says in that almost monotone tone of his, putting the bowl of homemade soup he'd prepared for Joe down on the table. "Here, this should help clear your sinuses."_ _

__"I've been using so much _Vicks_ , I think my sinuses have been burned away," Joe jokes, sitting up and picking up the spoon from the bowl. _ _

__"At least you aren't being sick," Graham notes, remembering how awful the vomiting was when he went on a particularly hard binge._ _

__"Oh, lovely," Joe says, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Just the sort of conversation that goes with soup."_ _

__"Sorry," Graham can't help but smile, one corner of his mouth tugged up as he pulls various boxes of flu medication out of the pharmacy bag in his hand. "Well, I hope you have enough Vicks left, because the pharmacist seems to have forgotten to bag it."_ _

__"I do, thankfully," Joe says, leaning back on the sofa, clutching his bowl of soup with a half-tired look in his eyes. "Thankfully I'm strong enough to rub it on my own chest, so I shouldn't be needing your hand with that."_ _

__Graham swallows, glances at Joe then quickly away again, stares at the bottle of medicine in his hand for a moment too long, like he's trying to rid himself of thoughts he shouldn't be having._ _

__"Do you want me to clear up your books?" Graham asks, clearing his throat when he's got the medicine all laid out on the glass side table next to the sofa._ _

__"I was planning on studying some more," Joe says, though he sounds reluctant. He sucks his thumb between his lips, soup having spilled onto his hand slightly. "Although, I'd rather take a bath and watch something inane on TV. I think Hollyoaks is on soon."_ _

__Graham chuckles, taking that as confirmation and moves to tidy up the coffee table, stacking the books up neatly in a pile as he speaks, "You shouldn't sleep on the sofa, you won't get a good night's rest."_ _

__Joe sighs, spoon scraping against porcelain as he finishes off his soup, "Alright, mother..."_ _

__Graham almost rolls his eyes at the joke, puts the books away neatly on the small bookcase next to the television unit._ _

__"The soup was delicious, by the way," Joe informs him as he stands, shrugging the shawl off his shoulders. He's wearing a turtleneck and jeans, because... _of course he is_. "Thank you."_ _

__"Pleasure," Graham nods, picking up the empty bowl._ _

__"You wouldn't mind tidying my room a bit whilst I have a bath would you?" Joe asks, sniffing slightly as he rubs at his nose. "It's not a squalor, but I'm a little too weak to even put on a mattress sheet, if I'm being honest."_ _

__Graham nods, "Alright, but I hope you know I'm not planning to become your butler."_ _

__"Oh, Heaven forbid," Joe smirks as he makes his way towards the hallway that leads to his room. "You're more like a manservant."_ _

__Graham shakes his head, lets out a puff of a laugh._ _

__\- - -_ _

__Graham has the bed made and pyjamas laid before Joe finishes his bath. They're a ridiculously fancy pair, no doubt from Harrods. In fact, Graham believes they're the same pair Joe had purchased for him last Christmas, a pair he never wore himself._ _

__"Oh, you didn't have to change the whole duvet," Joe's voice says from the door, and when Graham turns around he's met with the sight of him, his usually ridiculously big hair now flat and damp, clinging to his forehead._ _

__Graham swallows, eyes drawing to Joe's torso, a towel wrapped around the sharp v of his hips. He looks away quickly._ _

__"It's alright," Graham reassures him, his flight response kicking in at the sight of Joe, shirtless and damp before him. He moves to get by him, but Joe's hand on his arm stops him, and when Graham looks up, all he can notice is those blue eyes again._ _

__"Thank you, though, honestly," Joe says, tone serious. "You've been a large help the past year or so."_ _

__Graham forces a smile, although the words truly leave his chest blooming with warmth._ _

__Joe squeezes his arm gently, pats it, then moves around him towards the bed._ _

__Graham's smile fades as he leaves the room, lets Joe get dressed._ _

__He tries to excuse himself away, but he ends up sitting on the armchair in Joe's bedroom as Joe lays in bed, dressed in his _Harrods_ pyjamas as the two of them watch _The Chase_ , and Joe comments on how common it is compared to University Challenge._ _

__They're both asleep by the time the six o'clock news is on._ _

__\- - -_ _

__Joe graduates and sets his sights on expanding his portfolio._ _

__With his new degree and the accounting firm booming, Joe puts his thoughts to a new endeavour, something he tells Graham that he's been plotting for a while._ _

__"Waterhouse?" Graham implores, watches as Joe adjusts the tie around his collar. "It certainly sounds like the face of a company, but why not your own name?"_ _

__"A fresh start," Joe says, tilting his head as he looks at himself in the floor length mirror in his hallway. His eyes draw to Graham's reflection, stood behind him with that stoic expression he usually wears. "Do you think it's tacky?"_ _

__"The tie or the name?" Graham jokes, face unchanging._ _

__Joe smirks, "Careful. You know how sensitive I am about my taste."_ _

__"It could work, I suppose," Graham exhales, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as Joe turns around to face him. Without thinking, he reaches a hand out, straightens the lapels on Joe's blazer._ _

__Joe quirks an eyebrow at the touch, but he doesn't pull away, just lets Graham smooth a hand over the lapel before he drops his arms to his sides and glances away for a moment._ _

__Joe smiles as he exhales, gesturing with a hand for Graham to move, the door to his flat behind them, "Come on, then. We can't be late."_ _

__\- - -_ _

__It's been almost two years since they first met, and Joe is standing outside of Graham's flat with a fancy cake and bottle of non-alcoholic wine in his hand._ _

__Knocking on the door a few times and not receiving an answer, he wonders if Graham is out running errands and he contemplates leaving and returning later on, but figures that he might as well let himself in and await his return. It would be a pleasant surprise for the older man, and besides, he doesn't want to damage the cake on the car journey back._ _

__Letting himself in with his spare key, Joe is met by a immaculately clean flat and the sound of classical music coming from down the hallway. Making his way to the open plan modern kitchen, Joe opens the fridge and slips the cake box and wine inside, closes the door behind him._ _

__Pausing, he frowns. The flash of a label present in his mind. An uneasy feeling spreads through his gut, and when he opens the fridge again, his suspicions are confirmed._ _

__"Graham?" Joe calls out, following the source of the music playing down the hallway. He'd assumed Graham was in the shower, listening to the radio, but the sound is coming from his bedroom, the door open slightly. "Graham, I'm coming in."_ _

__Pushing open the door, Joe's stomach sinks at the sight before him._ _

__"Joseph," Graham smiles, slouched on the floor, back propped up against the foot of his large bed. He raises his hand to the younger man, a half empty glass of gin in his hand. "Have you come to celebrate with me?"_ _

__"What on earth do you think you're doing?!" Joe tries not to sound angry, but his tone betrays him as he crosses the room and kneels down besides Graham, hands pressed to his shoulders. "How much have you had to drink?"_ _

__"There's enough for you, don't worry," Graham slurs a little, waving a dismissive hand towards the man, who exhales sharply, brow furrowed as his eyes soften at the sight of him, so lost again._ _

__"You were doing so well..." Joe's fingers move to Graham's cheek, lifting his face to look up at him. "Why would you do this?"_ _

__Graham averts his gaze, frowning. His voice wavers a little when he speaks, mumbles, "Divorce papers."_ _

__Joe sighs as he stands up a little, hooks his hands under Graham's arms, struggles a tad as he tries to lift him from the ground, "Come on, Graham. Work with me here. You need to sober up."_ _

__Graham grunts, knees cracking as he struggles to rise to his feet. His broad palms map across Joe's torso like a blind man's hands on a wall until they eventually get a grip on his jacket, their fronts pressing together in an awkward half-embrace._ _

__Joe is about to move him over to the bed when he freezes, feels Graham's forehead crane against his chest and hears a soft hiccup of a sob leave the older man._ _

__"Graham..." Joe says softly, almost a warning, body tensing a little. He feels himself relax slowly as Graham's fingers grip his waist and his face presses into his shoulder, the warm weight of him seeming so vulnerable against him._ _

__Joe's palms find their way to Graham's back and he rubs circles into his shoulders, chin tucked over the older man's head as they stay like that for a moment in silence._ _

__Graham shudders against him, and Joe pulls away from the embrace, holds him at a short distance as he looks down at him. Graham tries not to meet his gaze, shame running through him, even in his drunken state._ _

__"Look at me, Graham," Joe says softly, and Graham does, sees the soft curl of his lips and those baby blues. "We're going to get you better, but first you need to get into bed, alright?"_ _

__Graham nods solemnly, allows Joe to put an arm around his shoulder and guide him onto his bed. Graham's fingers clutch onto Joe's arm as he settles onto the mattress, and Joe is stopped in his movements as he looks down at him, an unasked question in his eyes._ _

__Blinking up at him with half lidded, bleary eyes, Graham cranes his neck up._ _

__Joe doesn't register it at first, the clumsy, quick press of Graham's lips against his own. It's only when Graham is pulling back and mumbling an apology, does Joe realise, heat creeping through his face as he blinks down at him._ _

__They stay there in silence for a moment, Joe standing by the bed and Graham settling back against his pillows, sighing as he buries his face in his hands._ _

__"I'll get you some water and paracetamol for the hangover," Joe says after a minute, breaking the silence. He clears his throat, shuffles towards the door. "You'll be alright by the morning. Don't worry."_ _

__Shutting the door behind him, Joe leans against it._ _

__Pressing his fingers to his lips slowly, he recalls the touch of Graham's mouth, although brief, pressed against him. He can almost still taste the gin and smell Graham's cologne in the air._ _

__Shaking himself of the feeling, Joe pushes it to the back of his mind._ _

__Graham is drunk. He doesn't know what he's doing._ _

__\- - -_ _

__Joe isn't sure whether to be relieved or not over the fact that Graham doesn't seem to recall their drunken encounter._ _

__He spends the next week and a half at Graham's side, sleeping in the guest room of his flat, tipping all of the alcohol Graham had bought down his kitchen sink._ _

__Going cold turkey isn't easy, but Joe is there to keep him in check, and Graham finds it easier than the counselling and the AA meetings. Joe has a way of grounding him._ _

__"Why haven't you fired me yet?" Graham asks him one evening, the two of them sat in Graham's living room, the news playing in the background._ _

__"I told you," Joe says, not looking up from the laptop he's conducting business on. "I see myself in you. More so now than ever."_ _

__"I doubt you were ever a drunk," Graham says, blinking placidly at the news, tries to distract himself from the cravings of alcohol and the thoughts of how handsome Joe looked in the low light of his living room._ _

__"No, but we've both lost a lot in our lives," Joe looks up at him, meeting his eye._ _

__Graham doesn't say anything._ _

__\- - -_ _

__Joe is at the top of the ladder when it comes to his businesses, and Graham is mostly alright now, able to get back to his duties._ _

__Graham is not entirely sure about the way Joe conducts certain deals and opportunities, often using his charm and rather dodgy ways to rip some unsuspecting, too trustworthy person off. Graham looks past it, mostly, drives Joe to the dinners he has with older female clients, takes him to the hotels he books with them._ _

__He mostly sits in the carpark, fingers flexing a little too tightly around the steering wheel, trying to rid himself of thoughts of Joe with a woman, his full lips pressed to her neck._ _

__Joe speaks so casually and uninterested about the encounters that Graham wonders why he's doing it at all._ _

__Joe will just smirk from the backseat, and Graham will catch his eye in the overhead mirror, and it'll send a wave of something Graham can't quite pinpoint through him._ _

__\- - -_ _

__Joe is twenty one and he's got his sights on something new._ _

__Graham is unsure of the plan, an act of vengeance on the family that had ruined his life when he was a child._ _

__Joe looks up at him with big, sad eyes and Graham swallows at the sight of it, aches a little when Joe speaks, vulnerable, "He was my dad, Graham. She took him from me."_ _

__Graham agrees, but he's not entirely sure._ _

__\- - -_ _

__Joe has been acting rather rambunctious around him lately, and Graham can't tell if it's because of his eagerness at his new scheme, or something else entirely._ _

__There's been more casual touches, Joe clasping his arm and squeezing it when Graham does something for him, the odd smile and bat of his eyelashes when they secure a deal with a client._ _

__Graham dreams about him sometimes, his full lips and the square of his jaw, the way his arms flex beneath his tailored shirts as he folds them and sighs. Graham wakes up ashamed, face hot and boxers sticky, scolds himself for behaving like a teenage boy._ _

__Joe is waxing poetics about his revenge scheme, and Graham is frankly tired of listening to it at this point. He's already conflicted over the plan, hearing Joe go on about it with such glee is unsettling, and mixed with the dreams and thoughts he'd been having lately, Graham is unsure of how to proceed._ _

__It results in Graham snapping at him one afternoon._ _

__"I understand your desire to avenge your dad," Graham says, frowning as he looks up at Joe from his position on one of the armchairs opposite his desk in his Yorkshire office. "But to talk about hurting these people like this... what exactly is your endgame?"_ _

__Licking his lips, Joe stands with his hands on his hips for a moment, eyes fixed on Graham. Letting out a sigh, he smiles and slinks around his desk like a cat on the prowl._ _

__Graham's body tenses as Joe draws closer, fingers clasping the arms of the chair a little tighter._ _

__Joe has that wicked glint in his eyes, dark and half lidded as he approaches Graham, head tilting to the side, "Now, Graham. That would be spoiling the fun."_ _

__Graham swallows, opens his mouth to speak, but his words are cut off by his own soft noise of surprise when he feels the weight of Joe, settling onto his knee, arm draping over the back of his chair._ _

__Drawing his head back, Graham's brow knits into a frown, lips parted in confusion._ _

__Joe's fingers are warm when they cup his jaw, his thumb stroking over the lines under Graham's eyes, brushing his cheek. Joe's face is so close that Graham can feel his breath hit his cheek, and it's as close to feeling drunk as Graham has felt in months. "Do you remember when you kissed me?"_ _

__Graham tenses, face burning hot as he tries to form a response, "I--"_ _

__Joe's thumb brushes against his bottom lip, his lashes dark against his cheeks as he blinks at him, slow and languid, "I've thought about it a lot. Every day, in fact."_ _

__Graham is about to say something, deny the younger man's accusations, but his words are cut short by the warm press of Joe's lips against his own._ _

__He doesn't respond at first, body tense beneath Joe as Joe's mouth moves against him, drawing Graham's bottom lip between his own. It's only when Graham feels his own fingers curl around Joe's waist, drawing him closer into his lap until the younger man is straddling him, does Graham kiss him back, hungry and open mouthed._ _

__"Joe," Graham says between kisses, his calloused fingers sliding up Joe's shirt, over the hard lines of his stomach and hips, grasping them as Joe rocks down into his lap, a soft groan leaving the back of his throat._ _

__The sound alone is enough to make Graham ache, short nails digging crescent moons into Joe's skin._ _

__Joe's fingertips trail down Graham's chest, landing on the button of his slacks._ _

__"Eager, are we?" Joe chuckles, breath hot against Graham's neck as he presses his forehead to his shoulder and unbuttons Graham's trousers. He slides his hand under the material, presses his warm palm against the already half-hard weight of him in his boxers._ _

__"I could say the same about you," Graham groans, hips arching from the chair to meet Joe's, earning him a matching noise from the younger man._ _

__"Touché," Joe murmurs, circling his hips down against Graham's, his own cock twitching to attention, pressing against Graham's through layers of cotton and material._ _

__Joe braces a hand against Graham's shoulder, captures his mouth in another kiss, his free hand moving between them._ _

__It's a little dry of a touch, but Joe's fingers wrap around the both of them regardless, and the pre-come is enough for now, thumb swirling over the heads of both of them._ _

__Graham's grunt is lost against Joe's mouth, hips jerking up against him. Joe's kiss is hot and slick, and Graham wonders if he gives his usual business clients this type of treatment._ _

__The pace of their hips speed up slowly, until their words are lost and they're just rutting against each other, Joe's wrist having given up. He braces the soft curve of Graham's stomach, cock dragging over Graham's own, the friction from their clothes creating heat between them._ _

__"Joe..." it's a warning sound from Graham, low and vibrating against his neck, lips pressed to his collar._ _

__Joe cranes his head back a little, looks down at him with pupils dark, "I'll buy you a new suit. Don't worry about ruining it."_ _

__Graham's eyes slide shut as a familiar heat coils in his abdomen, his fingers gripping Joe's hips as Joe presses his lips to his ear, whispers, "That's it."_ _

__It's not long until Graham is coming, hot and hard, spilling between the two of them. His blood rushes as he groans into Joe's skin, the stubble on his neck prickling against his lips._ _

__He stays there for a moment, catching his breath as the younger man tenses, waits a moment before leaning back, fingers dragging over the come that Graham had spilled between them._ _

__Graham watches as Joe uses his come to slick his own cock. His gaze shifts between Joe's face, full lips red from where Graham had been kissing him, parted and letting out soft groans, and the curl of his fist around himself, thumb pressing over the head of himself._ _

__Graham's knuckles brush against the underside of Joe's cock just as the younger man comes, panting out Graham's name as he spills onto Graham's maroon jumper and grey slacks._ _

__Joe sinks against him, gripping Graham's shoulders to steady himself in the aftermath. They stay like that for what feels like a while, but is only a few minutes, Graham's hands cupping Joe's back._ _

__Lifting himself slowly off of Graham, Joe rocks back, pulling his slacks up around his waist, tucking himself back in as he sits on his desk._ _

__Graham's hands press to his face, covering his eyes as he tries to remember how to breathe properly again, the reality of what had just occurred settling in._ _

__He's the first one to speak, breaking the silence after he tidies himself up, zips up his slacks and tries not to think about the stain on the thigh of them, "We can't..."_ _

__Joe looks at him, says rather matter-of-fact like, "We just did."_ _

__Graham inhales, eyes casting to the hardwood floor that lines Joe's office. He licks his lips, still able to taste Joe in his mouth, "I know. But we can't. Not again."_ _

__Joe's shoulders sink as he sighs and rises from his desk, turning his back to Graham who still refuses to look at him._ _

__Swallowing, Joe braces himself on the bookcase that stands against the wall behind his desk, nods slowly, "Fine. Whatever you want."_ _

__\- - -_ _

__Joe's words turn out to be a lie._ _

__Graham is frustrated with him, upset with the way he's been treating this girl, _Debbie Dingle_. _ _

__Joe's got a glass of brandy in his hand, the first drop of alcohol he's touched around Graham since their first dinner together, before he knew, "Careful, Graham, you're beginning to sound jealous."_ _

__The glass tumbles to the floor as Graham crowds him against the window of the room that Joe had been renting under the name Waterhouse._ _

__Joe's eyes drag to Graham's lips then to his eyes, and it's enough for them to betray the promise they'd struck between them._ _

__Graham's weight pushes Joe down against the mattress of the bed that he'd slept in the night before with _her_._ _

__The thought of Joe sharing himself with someone else makes Graham feel sick._ _

__Joe moans Graham's name like it's something he savours, legs wrapped around Graham's waist as the older man moves inside him, fingers curled around the weight of Joe's cock._ _

__He's unapologetic in his roughness, thumbs pressing bruises into Joe's hips, ones he'll be unable to explain away to Debbie._ _

__Graham comes inside him, and Joe follows almost immediately after, spilling onto his chest and stomach, hands linked over Graham's shoulders._ _

__\- - -_ _

__Graham doesn't agree with any of it._ _

__The scheming, the lying._ _

__He feels sick when he sees Joe with her, his mind conjuring up all sorts._ _

__He leaves._ _

__He leaves after pinning Joe against the wall of Home Farm, tells him that he isn't weak, warning that Joe is stupid to think the Dingles won't have a counter attack._ _

__He makes Joe think it's mostly because of his schemes, but he can't mask the fact that it's partially due to the image Graham has conjured of Joe and Debbie in his head. _He loves her. He has to love her.__ _

__\- - -_ _

__"It's good to have you back," Joe tells him, moving the chess piece on the board. "I've missed this."_ _

__They don't talk about the last time they kissed, in that hotel room a few months before._ _

__Graham doesn't mention how he remembers how Joe's heels had dug into the small of his back, how he'd looked so beautiful, spent and laid out on spoiled sheets, lips red and cock twitching against his toned stomach._ _

__He worries that they'll never mention it again._ _

__\- - -_ _

__"He's hooked," Joe says, recalling his conversation with Ross as he sits on the sofa in a still almost empty living room in Home Farm._ _

__None of the furniture has been unpacked yet, and Graham is beginning to grow a little bored of using boxes, one sofa, and a one chair for comfort._ _

__Graham nods, leans across the sofa to grab the empty tea mug on the makeshift coffee table of a wooden crate._ _

__Joe's fingers on his arm stop him in his tracks, and when Graham looks up, he's met with a gaze he recognises, but is somewhat different to how he usually sees it._ _

__There's a softness to the suggestion, vulnerability as Joe speaks, voice quiet, "You must be tired of sleeping on that old mattress on the floor. My bed's assembled, and it's far too big for just one person. You could always join me tonight."_ _

__Graham swallows around the hard lump in his throat, eyes drawn to Joe's lips. Exhaling, he nods firmly as he offers his response, "I don't see why not."_ _

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a short fic, but as always, i had to be extra. 
> 
> i've been thinking about these two for months and with the teasing of last week's episode into their backstory, i had to make one up based on what we were given.
> 
> sorry for not going into full details about graham's past, but i figured i'd keep it vague just in case it's completely different on the show. just know that my headcanon is that graham owned businesses, pulled an insurance scheme, then lost it all along with his wife who divorced him. (she was a beard to him, tbh, anyways.)


End file.
